


The Feline's Nostalgia

by Dbzang



Category: Fandom - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:17:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7956466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dbzang/pseuds/Dbzang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Feline's Nostalgia

The Feline's Nostalgia  
My owner.  
The one who grooms me, pets me, feeds me and loves me.  
Even now that I'm old and tired she still sits down and talks to me.  
Even though I can't talk back like I used to, she can still hold a conversation with me.  
I don't know how long we've known each other, my memory is always fuzzy these days. One thing I do know though is that it's been a very, very long time.  
And soon, our worlds will part.  
I'm so grateful, that I had such a happy life.  
So grateful for always having her by my side.  
How I wish I was young again, so that I could stay with her a little longer.  
But the wheel of time is quickly turning, each click bringing with it a moment of nostalgia.

 

I remember when I first saw her face, how kind it was, how soft. Contrasted against a blue umbrella, with holes as big as gunshots. I remember the warmth of her hands against my cold, wet coat.  
Other humans weren't that kind, they were all either too busy to look down, or didn't want an ugly, wet kitten like me. Yet still, she took me in.  
I prodded along the hallway, when I found myself stopping at three claw scratches, they brought back distant memories of when I first entered this house. It was scary. There was no sky above us and water dripped everywhere.  
I had no idea what to do, so I scratched the wall to calm down.  
My owner got angry and I felt sad and guilty every time I walked past those marks, so every time I stopped and tried to wear them into the wall by rubbing the top of my head against them.  
I suppose it turned into a habit, because even now I find myself stopping to push my head into the scratches.

 

I continued along the hallway and looked up at the perfect white ceiling. I felt a touch of melancholy as the image of our worn out, old, grey ceiling flashed through my mind. It was leaky, and crumbly, but I loved it.  
Everything in the house changed at some stage, when several humans in weird clothing came and my owner and I left for a while. When we returned, everything was different and unfamiliar, except for one thing. My scratches stayed the same as they always were.  
After that, I found my owner left the house a lot. Always walking out the door early and coming back late, with the same tired expression on her face. She would often fall into her bed, then turn over and beckon me to sit next to her. We would stay there, curled up together until we both fell asleep (she was always the first). In the morning she would wake up and make herself look like those humans who shunned me, I hated that.  
But she would still feed me and smother me in kindness before she left.

 

One night she walked into the house with another human, a male. I inquisitively pawed at one of his pockets which seemed rather large, when a small black box dropped out. My owner looked at it for a second before tears rolled down her face, I was about to attack the box when all of a sudden the man picked it up and knelt down on one knee. He said a sentence I'd never heard before, "will you marry me?" My owner collapsed into a heap and cried whilst nodding and smiling at the same time. I don't understand humans.  
From that day on, the man visited more often. Gradually more and more stuff came into the house. One day my owner beckoned me over. Her hand was on her stomach, which was rather unusual. I sniffed at her hand and nudged it a little with my nose as if to ask whether her stomach hurt, but she leant down slowly and whispered something, "you can't tell him yet, but you're about to get a new little friend". I more or less understood what she meant. I understood that I wasn't going to be the only one lounging around on her lap anymore, but she was happy, so I felt the same.

 

A few months passed and one day when the man was asleep in the bedroom and my owner was reading on the lounge, I saw her face change. She dropped the book and winced in pain, something was wrong and I knew what I had to do. I raced into the bedroom and pounced on the mans face, he woke up immediately and was about to get angry when he heard my owner yell his name. He looked at me for a second before running out the door, he yelled something as he raced to my owner's side.  
"Thank you!" I sat up and watched the man carry my owner out the door. I ran up to the window and watched the car speed off.  
I waited.  
And waited.  
But my owner never came home.

 

I remember now.  
The only one who came home was the man, he was the one who spoke to me, petted me, fed me, and loved me, because I was the only thing he had left that was connected to the woman he loved. For the last time ever, I saw the face of the girl who took me into her arms and carried me home that day, for the last time ever I saw her smile, disappearing into the sky.

 

I stayed with the man for a long time after that, and every morning he would get up and place a flower from the well tended garden beside the photo of a beautiful lady, smiling from ear to ear, in a gown of the purest white, holding a bouquet of flowers, the same as every flower planted in our garden, a waltz of blues, pinks, reds and yellows. Sometimes the man would stop and caress the photo, sliding his fingers across the cold glass. After that he would leave.  
When he was gone I would walk over to the table in the middle of the room and sit exactly opposite the photo. Reminiscing every moment spent by her side, this is how I have spent every day since her death.

 

As I turned the corner that led from the hallway into the kitchen, I saw the table and jumped up to sit on it as I usually do, but this time was somehow different.  
I felt tired and sluggish, I tried to keep my eyes open but ended up slowly letting them close. I shifted my gaze to the photo on the shelf and looked it over one last time, before falling into my most peaceful slumber yet. I dreamt that the lady in the photo was standing before me, arms spread wide, beckoning me to her. I then realised that it was finally time to go.  
As I quietly let myself melt into the lady's chest, I looked down at the little house which held so many memories of the time I had spent in this world. Memories of the man, the scratches on the wall and most importantly, of the woman who started all of it.  
I wish I could have stayed a little while longer.  
Goodbye, I'll see you again someday, somewhere, long into the future.  
End.


End file.
